“As you wish.” Mrs. Murphy inclined her head. “She need only ask.”
“How very kind.” Leah smiled at the housekeeper. “There is nothing I can think of right now. I will let the kitchen girl know if more onions are needed.”
“Very good.” Mrs. Murphy left the room.
“You think we'll need more?” He coughed as she poured tea and added a generous amount of honey.
“Let's give it a chance to work before we cut up your entire winter's supply.”
He accepted the teacup she offered. The china warmed his palms. But not as much as Leah's smile warmed his heart. A hired girl. Ridiculous. While his father had never made it a secret that he dallied with the help, he'd beat out every notion of Daniel doing the same. It had gotten so bad that Daniel didn't even want to talk to his own employees short of Yanell.
After he'd started hunting regularly with Lord Paling, he'd become accustomed to seeing the other man's staff. Betty with her delicious pastries and Michael's gentle way with animals. Their daughters' laughter and Jem's mischievous nature thawed Daniel toward them. Still, he'd never been able to see his own staff the way he did the others. They reminded him too much of the past.
He drank his tea while sneaking glances at Leah. She'd fixed a cup for herself, although the peppermint didn't seem to please her. Like a miracle, the honey put the scratchiness in his throat to rest. It might not last long, but it helped nevertheless.
“Tell me about yourself. About Kent.”
She froze, then took a big gulp of tea. “There is not much to tell.”
“There is always something. Family, friends, why you came here as a shepherdess. I'm a storyteller. I like to listen to others as much as I like to write.”
She traced the edge of her cup. “I did not start out as a shepherdess.”
“I could have guessed that much. You speak too well for someone in a lowly station.”
“My father was a vicar. Nowhere near the amount of wealth I imagine you're accustomed to, but we lived comfortably. Not only did he have a flock of souls to tend, but he kept sheep as well. He...died and I had nowhere to go. That's all.”
“You paint such a vivid picture.” He paid for the acid comment with more coughing. It almost upset his teacup, but she grabbed his hand and removed it. Her touch sent a ripple through him.
“Stop talking so much. You are making the cough worse.” She didn't add fool to the end of her chastisement, but might as well have.
“Then talk more so I can talk less,” he croaked.
“He had sheep, as I said, but I didn't know much about them. Jem has been helping me. That's why I am with him all the time. Someday Lady Eleanor and Michael might trust me with them alone, but it is a long time off. After lambing, probably. Being a shepherdess wasn't my first choice for employment, but it isn't the worst. Most days, it's peaceful.”
She rambled on about what she liked and hated about the work.
Daniel's eyelids grew heavy. The lilt of her voice lulled him into security. If she stayed to watch over him, perhaps the demon ghost of his father wouldn't pierce his dreams.
“Go to sleep, Goodwin.” Her hand smoothed across his forehead.
“Stay. Talk a bit longer.”
“All right. Just for a while. Sleep will help more than onions and tea.”
He turned his head toward her, pleased when her hand came to rest over his. Lady Eleanor had captured his attention, but her shepherdess—a commoner—was far more intriguing.
A DUKE WORTH HIS SALT
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jair cantered across the dry grass outside the flock's pen. Goodwin, looking in top shape, leaned over the horse's neck.
“You're smiling.” Jem nudged Eleanor's arm.
So captivated by the rider, she nearly toppled off her perch on the fence when Jem touched her. She straightened and pulled her gaze away from the pair. “Because I love to see an animal perform at its best. Jair is a wonderful creature.”
“Because His Grace is up from his bed, hearty and hale again.”
“You are a pest.” She sniffed. “It is no such thing.”
“I thought you planned to tell him not to return.”
“I did, but...” Goodwin had been miserable with his cold. It seemed unfair to bring it up when she'd visited.
“But you like it when he comes here, don't you?” Jem grinned. “You ought to tell him who you are. It's not right to keep letting him think you're a mere shepherdess.”
“Stop imagining things, boy. There is nothing between us.”
“You wish there were.”
She groaned. “Enough. He's riding this way and I won't have you spouting such nonsense in his presence.”
“Think I'll take a walk. That way should you want to kiss him—”
He ducked as Eleanor took a swing at his head. Laughing, Jem jogged out of reach.
Goodwin doffed his hat at the boy as they passed. He aimed Jair straight for her, but slowed the horse to a walk until they reached her.
“Miss Leah.” He inclined his head. “You're wind flushed this morning. It is a lovely look.”
Her face warmed. “I am sure I appear as a mess.”
“Nonsense.” He dismounted. “I came to thank you for your assistance during my illness. As you can see, I recovered swiftly. No doubt because of your tender care and potent remedies.”
“I hope riding will not lead to a setback.”
He shook his head. “I feel fine. Healthier than ever. I should be writing, but I have been stuck inside so long, I needed the chance to get out. May I?” He gestured at the fence.
“If you like.”
They sat in silence for an extended moment.
“I enjoyed your company, Leah. It is pleasant to be around a woman who is not obsessed with my social status or how much I'm worth. The few times I have been in London during the Season, it's aflutter with girls in silk and bows trying to catch husbands. Their mothers are worse. Here in Sussex, there is none of that. I am not used to the kind of silence Lady Eleanor has presented. I admit, when I first heard of her arrival, I thought she might have followed me here. Corner the poor duke, gain his affection, marry him. However, the more I wanted to meet her, the more she struggled to stay away from me.” Goodwin blew out a breath. “I won't force her to meet me. I understand the need for solitude. Whatever brought her to Lanthrop Downs is her business. At any rate, I am glad she hired you. I do not feel as though I need to impress you. We can be friends without great shows of money or prestige.”
“You really thought she'd come here to try to trick you into marriage?” Laughable. Eleanor tried to smother her mirth behind her gloved hand, but it escaped. “Oh, you are conceited, Goodwin.”
He chuckled, a warm sound that renewed her laughter. “It does seem far-fetched now, but you have no idea how ruthless the women of the ton are.”
“Surely not all of them.” She was of the elite. While there were many scandals and rumors abound during the Season, not all the people she knew were awful.
“Not all, but plenty.” His gaze went to the sheep. “It makes me appreciate the quiet country life more.”
“Then you have no intentions of living in London for extended periods? What if you do find a wife someday? Will she want to remain secluded out here?” She'd come to love the land and didn't even mind the smell of the sheep, which seemed to cling to everything. The manor was run down, but with time, it would be repaired. Give up London to live here? There would be no difficulty in it for her.
“Perhaps I will never marry. I shall become a recluse and eventually my title shall fall to a distant cousin.” Goodwin's eyebrows pinched together. “There are few women who see the beauty of this place and the value of the peacefulness.”
“I know what you mean. The sea on one side, pasture and forest on the other. It's a haven.”
“You are a rarity, Leah. You must know that.” He leaned closer.
Her heart leaped. Goodwin's lips were inches from he
r own, perfectly kissable. Jem's teasing words flooded back to her. She had no business kissing Goodwin, either as Leah or Eleanor. The game she played was too dangerous. It was a miracle Aunt Madeline hadn't come for her already.
Goodwin's hands cupped the sides of her face and he pressed his lips to hers.
Eleanor gave in. His mouth, a pillow of softness and delight, matched perfectly to hers. The cold air seemed to warm as she flushed throughout. His fingers pushed back her scarf, freeing her hair, loosening her pins. Dark waves tumbled over her shoulders.
Her heart gave another jump, then skittered as he hauled her into his lap. Goodwin's mouth grazed her jawline. She gripped his coat, the only grasp she had on reality. For this had to be a dream. She would wake any moment in her bed.
“What is the matter, Leah?” Fingers tangled in her hair, Goodwin searched her face for an answer.
“Why are you doing this?”
He leaned back a fraction. “You do not want it?”
“I do, but you know what I am. You must think me some tart ready for use while you're in Sussex. That I am the same caliber of woman my father believed me to be.” She pulled away from him until her feet hit the hard earth.
“Your father?” Goodwin rose from the fence. “What does he have to do with the way I feel for you?”
“You do not feel anything, Goodwin! I know what the hired women are good for. I have no wish to become a notch in your bedpost.” Blinded by tears and her own foolishness, she stumbled.
“You have seen my bedposts. There aren't any notches. Leah, wait. You think I would use you?” He followed, but didn't try to touch her.
“To get to Lady Eleanor. All you want is to ride her land, hunt her game, charm her servants until she's forced to give in. You probably want her to convince her father to sell Lanthrop Downs.”
“And then you fear you will have nowhere to go.” He stopped walking. “I am sorry for upsetting you. This kiss was no attempt at seduction. Though I would gladly unravel more of your secrets in my bedchamber. There is no reason for me to lie. While I would love to own Lanthrop Downs, yes, it is for sentimental reasons more than the profit.”
“What reasons? Can't you leave Lady Eleanor alone? Have you considered this paltry estate might be all she has left after her father's accident?” Talking about herself as someone else led to frustration. Giving away her secret might well be the end of her refuge.
“I'm sorry for the lady's father, truly. I do not know the extent of the damage, but I imagine it was devastating to her. He said on more than one occasion how close he was with her.”
“Very close. So please keep your reasons for wanting to steal Lanthrop Downs from her. They won't offer any comfort.” She folded her arms. “She wishes to remain here.”
“That is understandable. Lord Paling, the former Earl of Lanthrop, quite loved this place when it was more than it is now. I spent a good deal of time here in my youth.”
She shouldn't care, but the tight lines around his eyes and mouth pulled the curiosity from her. “Why, when you have your own estate?”
He wiped his hand down his face. “It's a long story. Not one you would like to hear.”
Not one that was her business. He presented a mysterious figure to members of the ton. One so far removed from them, he was little more than a passing thought. But the pain on his face revealed he kept dark secrets.
“What makes you care so much about Lanthrop Downs?” she asked with more force than any proper servant. With the authority she'd commanded to her own help in London.
Goodwin drew in a breath. “The former duke saved me from my father's wrath on more than one occasion. He gave me shelter here when I needed it most.”
Stunned, Eleanor couldn't find any words.
“He was a wretched man, my father. Prone to drink and fits of anger that would surely frighten the Devil.”
Doubt crept around her. “Why would Lord Paling help you?”
“Probably because after he intercepted me poaching and gave me a brutal tongue lashing, he discovered we shared a fondness for literature. Books helped me escape Father's temper. They carried me away when he got it in his head I needed to be locked out of sight. I quickly learned never to be without one, or the nights I spent in closets would be long. Until I started writing stories of my own. I could compose the best part of a plot while sitting in the dark.” Goodwin's smile bordered on a shade of bitter. “He nearly killed me one night. Might have done so if Lord Paling hadn't interfered by pure luck. I did not return to Glassodder Head nor the London townhouse until my father passed.”
“Why would your father—” She couldn't imagine anyone hurting Goodwin. He'd been nothing but kind to her.
“Most likely his own father treated him the same. The real reason I do not participate in the Season? Should I find a wife and produce heirs of my own, I might become the monster from my past. Dalliances, flirtation, all good and well, but marriage and children? Out of the question.” He turned away. “Forgive me for ruining your day with old memories. I will take my leave. Give your mistress my best should you see her. And tell her I am not a threat to her precious privacy.”
“Goodwin, wait.” She reached for his coat sleeve, but he walked on.
* * * *
He shouldn't have told Leah about his past. Frustrated, Daniel slammed his empty tumbler onto the desk top. Unsatisfied with that, he shoved his ink blotter off the desk. Pages he'd previously written scattered onto the floor. The ink bottle shattered. He pushed his fingers into his hair. What had he been thinking? The truth was, he'd needed to talk, needed to share that sordid part of his life. If not with a shepherdess he'd thought he could trust, then who? When Lord Paling passed, he'd lost more than a friend. There were so few people he felt he could bare his soul to. Leah had been one, but now she must be frightened of him.
Admitting he feared he might turn into his father would be his ruination. He had no future with a wife. Not with Leah or anyone.
He rested his elbows on his knees, then dropped his head into his palms. Perhaps it was time to go abroad once more. War had offered him a chance to see the world through different eyes. To hide until his father's death. Leaving would allow him to start afresh where he would only be a mysterious duke and no one knew of the black Goodwin legacy.
A light rap on the door startled him.
“Come.” Typically, Yanell or the others didn't disturb him while he worked in his study. Curious that anyone would when he'd made it obvious he didn't want to be bothered on his return.
Yanell opened the door a fraction. “Your Grace, you have a visitor.”
“Who?” Why?
“The shepherdess. Miss Leah. I can send her away—”
His heart raced. She'd come for him. “No, let her in.”
“Very good.” Yanell's thin nose disappeared from the crack.
Daniel had professed his fear of being like his father and now here was his mess to offer up proof. There was no time to straighten it. He should have had Yanell send Leah to the parlor, but he was so stunned she'd come. He barely had time to stand before he heard their footsteps.
Yanell opened the door and ushered Leah inside.
“That will be all, Yanell.”
Daniel met Leah's gaze, but she lowered hers almost immediately. The steward departed.
“You've redecorated,” she murmured.
“Made a mess of it too. Like most things. It is a curse. Have a seat. Or is what you've come to say something along the lines of Lady Eleanor never wishes me to cast a shadow on Lanthrop Downs again? This time I will truly stay away.”
She sank into the chair opposite his desk. “Nothing of the sort.”
Relief left him lightheaded. “No?”
“I regret the way you left. You are no monster, Goodwin.”
He snorted. “I do not want your pity.”
“That is well, because you will get none from me. I only think it's sad you did not know your father's love or pride. I cannot ima
gine growing up without that support. I do know what it is to lose it, but I marvel how well you've come up.” She folded her hands together and drew in a deep breath. “Those who know you adore you. No one likes a fiend. No one sings the praises of bad men. The way others talk of you, I know you are a good person. You helped Lady Eleanor twice. For reasons only you can be certain of, but it wasn't for gain. Because you are a good man.”
“But are monsters made or born?” A question that plagued him during long nights with his hand cramped around his quill. In his stories, he sought to create characters who discovered their heroic traits because their enemies brought out their best. Whether his stories mimicked life, he couldn't say. “I have often wondered, because perhaps the worst of me is waiting for the right time to present itself.”
She looked away. “Perhaps there is a bit of something dark inside all of us. Whether you choose to let it out or shut it away makes the difference.”
“You seem so certain, Leah. Can my staff not tell you how I bullied them while I was sick?” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I was terrible.”
“You were under duress. You did no such thing to me.” She rose. “You are a poor Devil's advocate.”
“Poor in everything except money, my dear.” He sank into his chair. “You should go.”
Leah raised her chin. “If I do not?”
“You are welcome to stay and revel in the debauchery. I plan to drink until I'm blind from it.” He gave her a tight smile. A half-empty sparkling crystal decanter sat behind him. He gestured to it. “You may join me if you wish.”
“You will do no such thing. This is nonsense. I am sorry for your terrible childhood, but it is done and over. Be the man your friend Lord Paling wanted, not a sorry sop your father would laugh at.” She marched around his desk, then knocked the decanter to the floor.
Finely aged brandy soaked into his Oriental carpet.
Leah's eyes rounded. “I did not mean to—”
“Did you hurt yourself?” He pushed away from the desk.
“No. I will replace it. All of it. The liquor and the crystal. It will be here day after next, I promise.” She tucked her hands behind her back and lowered her chin to her chest. “I should not have interfered.”
Once Upon A Regency Page 39
